


tous les mêmes

by wordsofhoney



Category: Dota (Video Games) RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, POV Johan "N0tail" Sundstein, Post-TI9, Protective Johan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsofhoney/pseuds/wordsofhoney
Summary: What is left there when you've achieved everything?
Relationships: Ceb | Sébastien Debs/N0tail | Johan Sundstein
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	tous les mêmes

Johan takes a drag on his cigarette and shivers. Autumn is milder than usual, but it’s still late November in Paris, and he came out for a quick smoke without taking his coat from the club’s cloakroom.

Johan watches the smoke curl up and disappear in the neon lights, and tries to imagine his worries dissipating with it, the weight on his shoulders crumbling and falling down with ashes. It doesn’t help, and Johan sighs.

A couple of days ago they’ve been in Copenhagen, sorting out things for the OG organisation, preparing reports and reviews and highlights and all those things that made Johan’s head ache. Luckily, the Debs brothers felt as at ease in management speak as in Twitch chat, so things were moving along pretty quickly. 

The only thing that bothered Johan was Séb. Something felt off about him, but Johan couldn’t put his finger on it, and it was driving him up the wall. He desperately wanted to ask, but they’ve known each other long enough to trust the other to share on his own when the time was right.

So Johan stole Séb for a walk one evening, and they were strolling in silence along one of the canals. The air was crisp, first traces of winter evident in the way their breathing came out in puffs of white smoke. Johan could _feel_ the energy buzzing around Séb, and took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steel himself up for whatever may come.

“I don’t want to play anymore.”

Sébastien’s voice was soft and quiet, and Johan wished he’d kept some of the air inside his lungs, because taking a new breath was impossible. He stopped in his tracks, and stared at Séb, who looked back at him, his whole body tense as he waited for an answer. Johan opened his mouth, but his mind was blank, and he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Sébastien swallowed, and looked away, at the still waters of the canal, before bringing his gaze back to Johan.

“When we’re done,” he said, “Come with me to Paris?”

A heartbeat of hesitation, and Johan nodded.

After the initial shock wore off, Johan had to admit that signs have been there, he just chose not to pay attention. Not that it mattered, Séb has made his decision, and Johan wouldn’t try to talk him out of it, anyway. 

Still, doesn’t mean he has to like it.

With a sigh, Johan puts the cigarette out, and goes back inside.

The club is dark and full of people, and Johan can’t see Séb anywhere at a glance. He stops by the bar, and minutes later wriggles his way through the crowd to a nearest available bar table with two more shots in his hands. He takes another look around, and finally catches a sight of familiar figure on the dance floor.

Johan can’t help himself. He’s staring. 

Johan was never a big dancer, thousands of hours in front of a screen never leaving too much room for anything else. 

Sébastien, on the other hand, is moving with grace of a hunting panther. Black jeans make his legs look even longer, and a plain t-shirt clings to his body like second skin. He raises his arm in a dance move, and bracelets slip down the slim wrist. He has his eyes closed, completely surrendering to the rhythm of music.

Johan has always found Sébastien beautiful. Sometimes, like now, maybe even a little bit too much.

For the millionth time in the past years Johan feels, like he’s falling.

Johan is so caught up in his thoughts, that he jumps when a cocktail glass lands on the table beside him. He looks up from it, and sees a girl smiling at him, her eyebrows raised suggestively. Johan blinks, and smiles back. 

She’s cute, really, short hair sticking out in all directions, lush lips enfolding the straw, long fingers slowly gliding up and down the dewy side of her highball glass. Johan lets his gaze linger on them, before looking up with an apologetic smile and shaking his head. The girl pouts exaggeratedly, but Johan can see a smile lurking beneath it. He shrugs, and nods in the direction of Séb dancing behind her. The girl looks over her shoulder, and as she turns back, she inclines her head approvingly, toasts Johan with her glass, and goes away.

Johan watches her disappear in the crowd, huffs a laugh, and drags a hand over his face. It’s a disaster, _he’s_ a disaster, and he _really_ needs this drink.

The track changes, and Séb finally joins him, smiling for the first time in days. Sweaty hairs stick to his forehead, and Johan suppresses the urge to reach out and fix them as he grins back, nodding at the shots. 

They clink glasses, and some of the tequila spills over Sébastien’s fingers. He swears and licks it away, pink tongue flashing over the pale skin, and Johan almost chokes as he downs his shot.

This night will be the end of him.

* * *

They move to a quieter lounge area, and Séb goes to the bar to grab another round of drinks. Johan drops down on a couch, and, rubbing his face, lets out a sigh. He hasn’t been to a club for years, and it’s starting to get a little bit too much. Maybe he should grab Sébastien and get the hell out of here, claiming he’s too old for this shit, before Séb comes up with another way of killing him a little bit on the inside.

Johan can see the bar from the corner of his eye, but there are people crowding around and Séb is nowhere to be seen. With another sigh, Johan drags himself up and is about to make his way to the bar, when he notices Sébastien in the opposite corner. He’s gesticulating angrily at some creep, who keeps trying to embrace him by the waist. 

A wave of anger in Johan’s chest comes out of nowhere like a tsunami, and before he even realises it, he’s moving. 

“Come on, you were so pretty dancing, don’t be shy! _On va niquer rapidement, et c’est tout_,” the creep is clearly drunk, his speech slurred and loud.

“_Vas bien niquer ta mère, fils de pute_,” Séb’s voice is so full of venom that even Johan flinches. The creep definitely felt it too, because his face changes, and Johan sees Sébastien’s back tense. He closes the last gap between them, and slowly encircles his arm around Séb’s waist. Sébastien goes still, but Johan can feel some of the tension leave his body as he leans ever so slightly in the touch.

“Is there a problem?” Johan’s voice is cold like water from the northernmost glaciers as he quirks an eyebrow at the creep and tugs Sébastien closer in a protective gesture.

The creep is almost a head higher than both of them, but Johan couldn’t care less. Red hot anger is boiling just beneath the surface of his skin, washing over him in waves, making the hairs on his hands stand up. The urge to protect what’s _his_ has always been strong in him, and when it came to Séb, this feeling knew no bounds at all.

The creep stares him down, but when Johan doesn’t even blink he backs off with a disgusted look on his face, throwing “_Salope_” over his shoulder. Sébastien flinches, and Johan thinks how good punching the fucker in the face would feel. Instead, he pulls Séb closer, and starts moving them towards the exit.

They grab their coats and get out of the club. Cold air does little to calm down Johan’s ire. His hands are trembling as he lights up a cigarette, and Sébastien must have noticed it, because he wraps a hand around his shoulders and gives him a shake.

“Hey. It’s all right.”

Johan huffs out a mirthless laugh with a puff of smoke.

“No. No, it’s not, Séb, and you know it. Fucking skunks.”

He takes another drag, and looks at Séb. 

“What if I weren’t there, hm? What then? That dickhead was a whole head bigger than you. Do you think he would have just backed off, huh?”

Sébastien half shrugs with one shoulder.

“They all eventually do.”

Johan feels his shoulders sink, all the fight suddenly gone.

“So it’s not the first time, then.”

Sébastien just quirks an eyebrow at him and snorts. Johan takes the last drag, and throws the cigarette away.

“Fucking unbelievable.”

* * *

In a silent agreement they decide to walk home. Streets get quieter as they move farther away from the bawdy quarter. Paris is asleep, the contours of her streets lit up with soft yellow lamps. They stroll in comfortable silence, so close to each other that their shoulders brush.

They reach the Seine embankment, and turn to the Archbishopric bridge. Johan stops when he sees Notre-Dame appear from behind the trees, and leans on the parapet. Sébastien notices it a step further, and stops too, looking at the remains of the cathedral with an unreadable face. 

“I’ve never actually been there,” says Johan quietly, ”Never had a chance.” 

He hears Séb take a deep breath, and then a warm shoulder presses to his as Séb leans on the parapet next to him.

“It was beautiful,” he says simply, “You would walk in, and think, ‘Oh, this is just another church, what’s up with all the fuss?’. But then, when you turn to leave, there’s this _huge_ stained glass window right over the entrance that you didn’t see at first when you came in.” 

Sébastien pauses, and turns his head just slightly to look at Johan from the corner of his eye. 

“And you’re caught off guard, completely defenceless and unprepared.”

Suddenly Johan gets the feeling that Séb isn’t talking about the stained glass anymore. He stares at Sébastien, who’s looking at the cathedral again. Séb’s face is lit by the street lamps, warm light accentuating soft lines and getting caught in the lenses of his glasses. Johan wishes he could see Séb’s eyes without them.

Séb must have felt his gaze, because he looks back at Johan. He has a strange expression on his face, like a silent challenge, like a dare. 

Johan always loved a good challenge. 

They are already so close that is takes almost nothing to lean in and catch those soft lips with his. Séb opens his mouth in a soft gasp, but doesn’t back away, and Johan deepens the kiss. Séb answers, and it’s slow and languid, like they’ve got all the time in the world.

They are both breathless when they finally break the kiss. With a last look at the cathedral, Sébastien steps away from the balustrade, and nods in the direction of home, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

Johan nods, and falls in stride beside Séb, just like they’ve always been walking for the past few years. Except this time, when wrapping a hand around Johan’s shoulders, Séb pulls him in just a little bit closer.


End file.
